


My Heart Hopped the E Train

by anunsungrequiem



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: A lot of Rom-com cliches, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depressed Grantaire, Enjolras is a polisci major, Eventual Romance, F/M, I'll probably add more tags later, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, New York City, Politics, Roommates, Slow Burn, Some angst, Songs to go with different chapters, Why?, a lot of complaining about bill deblasio, also, also a lot of mentions of different cultural stuff, and a lot of references to r&b music, and they were ROOMMATES, because I said so, but you were probably expecting that because it's a les mis fic, eventual roommate scenario, like it's really bad, lots of them - Freeform, mixtapes, most of the characters are POC, mostly just fluff, obligatory subway jokes, oh my god they were roomates, once again a new york fic, please listen to them, the subway is to me as the parisian sewer system is to hugo, they're bops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-07-13 05:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16011065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anunsungrequiem/pseuds/anunsungrequiem
Summary: "I can't help that I'm lost.""Lost in New York? but the streets are numbered," the stranger snorted, "How do you get lost in New York? It's a grid system, motherfucker!"orMy heart hopped the E train to follow you home and I wouldn't want it any other way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song 1: ABC bt The Jackson 5

“Fuck.”

Enjolras was on the sidewalk, staring down at his phone, the map in front of him making about as much sense as an ancient language that he had never heard of. Despite being a man of many talents, Enjolras had never been the best at navigating his way around new places, even with the assistance of apps like google maps and such. It was one of those skills that he had never had the time to pick up, not that he thought basic navigational skills to be unnecessary, but because he always had much more important things at hand. It was part of why his parents had been so hesitant about letting him go to University in New York City, paranoid that he would run into some back alleyway and get killed in the process. It was almost by a miracle that Enjolras convinced his parents he would be fine in New York and that he wouldn’t accidentally stumble into any shady corners of the city or lose himself in the crowds. Enjolras always had a way with words but his parents had put up even less of a fight than usual, saying that they trusted Enjolras to stay safe and not get lost.

If only they could see him now.

“Fucks sake,” Enjolras whispered, looking up from the phone screen in order to make sense of the world around him.

He had known that Manhattan was going to be chaotic and lively but nothing could have prepared him for this. The constant bustle of people that seemed to be going at a million miles per hour, it was overwhelming no doubt, but Enjolras was able to find some comfort in the seemingly constant buzz of the city. People of all ethnicities and genders off to their jobs, giddy middle schoolers who were probably up to no good, families of all shapes and sizes. The best part was that nobody seemed to care, everyone went on with their lives as usual, not going out of their way to give anybody strange looks for being different because everybody there was different. It had been nothing like anything that he had known before, nothing like home where kids were ostracized for not being “normal”, nothing like home where Enjolras had gotten in trouble countless times for his refusal to conform. There was a silent solidarity coursing through the city, connecting each and every individual as subconscious as it may have been, and already Enjolras felt more at home than he ever had before. 

Or he would if he could actually walk anywhere without getting confused beyond belief.

He looked back down at his phone, stepping away from the building that he had been leaning on for god-knows-how-long, and back into the racing movements of the city. If Google maps was to be trusted then Enjolras was heading in the right direction to Bryant park, a relief considering he had made it this far alive. In theory this all should have been simple enough, Courfeyrac (a newfound friend of Enjolras’) going so far as to text him directions to the café where they would be meeting, but for some reason it was all gibberish to Enjolras. At this point he was basically waiting for some big fuck you from the universe happen, it wasn’t even a matter of if at this point, rather a matter of when. It all felt too easy now, zipping down sidewalks with his eyes on the map in front of him, not even slowing to whirl around the corner.

Of course the universe decided that this was the perfect time for him to slam into somebody and fall backwards.

Wonderful.

“Look up from your phone, you fucking moron!”

The stranger seemed to have no shame in shouting, it didn’t take much time to realize that he had probably bumped into a NY native, an not a happy one at that. In a situation like this Enjolras would normally be the first to apologize, he was in the wrong after all, but something about the way that this guy approached the situation made him want to be spiteful. This lead to Enjolras taking his damn time to get up, dusting off his jeans and putting his phone (that had fallen on the ground) back into his pocket, before acknowledging the stranger in front of him with what had to be a scoff. On his first day at school Jehan (his roommate who was quite odd) had told Enjolras not to go around the city picking fights, stating that you were more likely to get bitten by a new yorker than a shark, however right now Enjolras couldn’t find it in himself to even consider heeding the warning.

“You could just politely ask for an apology you know?” Enjolras responded. He knew that he probably should have just left it at that but something about the stranger’s voice made Enjolras’ blood boil, not wanting to leave without having the last word. “You act like I wanted to bump into the world’s biggest asshole or piss you off today. I was looking at Google maps, maybe you’ve heard of it, but I can’t help the fact that I’m fucking lost!”

As Enjolras stared at the person in front of him he could see their facial expression shifting from blind anger and annoyance to pure confusion.

“Lost in New York? The streets are numbered,” the stranger snorted. “How do you get lost in New York? It's a grid system, motherfucker!”

Enjolras was almost positive that he gave the most ridiculously dumbfounded look, judging by the reaction that the stranger gave. Throughout his lifetime Enjolras had been sighed at by many people, mostly people who were frustrated by his political opinions or the fact that he would never shut up, all of those responses however paled in comparison to this. The stranger had their face in their hands, either mumbling something or laughing sadly to themselves, their jet black curls were just as responsive despite their inability to speak. It was all quite dramatic in truth, Enjolras not knowing whether or not he should just walk away so that passerbys would no longer be forced to walk around him, but before he had the chance the stranger looked at him again.

“Look just-” The stranger let out another deep sigh, their hands moving down to the pockets of their jeans. “You’re going to get eaten alive without some sort of assistance. Where are you going? I’ll see if I can provide some help.”

An offer to help was one of the last things that Enjolras had been expecting to hear from the stranger’s mouth. If anything he had expected another insult or to show up at the café with a black eye, never thinking that any good would come of the situation, but good came and it felt nice. To Enjolras, the offer just acted as proof of that invisible but present solidarity, and if he was offered help he may as well take it.

“Bryant Park,” Enjolras started offering the stranger a small smile. He wasn’t quite sure of what but it felt like something new had appeared in the stranger’s eyes. “I’m Enjolras by the way, he and him pronouns, sorry for bumping into you.”

“Well, Enjolras, did you know that you’re heading in the completely wrong direction?” A smirk seemed to be growing on the stranger’s face and it partly made Enjolras want to punch them in the gut. “I was walking there now, you’re free to walk with, and since we’re going by last names for some reason I’m Grantaire. He and him pronouns as well, though I have to admit you’re the first person I’ve met that brought up gender and pronouns when introducing yourself,” Grantaire continued.

“Is there anything wrong with that?” Enjolras could feel the urge to punch this man in the gut growing but he kept his anger behind his clenched jaw. 

“Not at all, it was just an observation. More people should do that,” Grantaire spoke, his tone was now calm and almost gentle. He started walking again, seemingly having no trouble getting back to the tempo of the city, and Enjolras followed closely behind.

Maybe this could be something good.

“Exactly! Asking for a person’s pronouns should be a cultural norm at this point, especially in a place like this. There’s nothing outlandish about a person being trans, it’s normal, and it’s up to everyone to ask for a person’s pronouns rather than just assuming. So many cis people claim to be trans allies yet they do nothing to actively support the trans community and something like this, as miniscule as it may seem, can do a world of help,” Enjolras ranted. He knew he could go on for hours about the subject, how being a proper ally of the lgbt+ community required more than just going to pride parades and watching RuPaul, but he decided to keep it short for now. “More needs to be done, the times are changing, and society needs to change with it.”

There was a moment of silence and Enjolras wasn’t quite sure if Grantaire was in thought or if he was just ridiculing Enjolras internally. Grantaire’s face seemed to suggest the latter but what he had said before gave Enjolras the impression that Grantaire just had a perpetual case of resting bitch face.

“You’re right, things should change,” Grantaire started, his voice remaining just loud enough to be heard. “That doesn’t mean that they’re going to. Don’t get me wrong, what you’re doing may be the right thing to do, but it isn’t as simple as that. Your plan relies entirely on humans being accepting and decent people, neither of which humans have been known to be. The people don’t care unless it benefits them individually, the media doesn’t care unless they make money, and our leaders don’t care unless they make money. Humans are inconsiderate creatures and hoping for them to show compassion is pointless.”

Enjolras wanted to stop in the middle of the sidewalk. He wanted to stop and ask how Grantaire could be so bitter, how Grantaire could be so nihilistic, and continue walking seemingly unphased by his words. It pissed Enjolras off more than he could imagine, to the point where red flashed before his eyes, but he just continued to walk with his fist at his side. He always knew that his anger could get the best of him, especially in situations like this, and if he was ever going to get anything done he needed to learn to deal with cynical assholes like Grantaire without punching him in the face. The world that he was going into was worse than any jaded new yorker, if he couldn’t handle this, how on Earth would he handle the real political realm? Besides, after Enjolras got to Woodside he would never have to see Grantaire again, he could keep his cool for a while longer.

“There’s the asshole that I bumped into earlier,” Enjolras sighed but his voice was dripping with  
snarkiness.

“Yeah, the same asshole that’s basically being your tour guide, so shut the fuck up.”

“Do you take hobby in being a dick or is that a thing that's cool in New York or…” Enjolras trailed off, shooting Grantaire a smile that was so fake it could be deadly. Grantaire, who seemed amused rather than annoyed in any way, responded with his own fake smile.

“It's a bit of both actually.”

Enjolras wanted to sigh again, but instead a smile managed to find its way on his face. The more that he thought about his situation the stranger it seemed, he supposed that it wasn’t exactly normal to start a conversation about gender and society with a stranger that you bumped into on the street, but things didn’t uncomfortable in the least. That was another thing that was odd, just how comfortable Enjolras felt around Grantaire despite not knowing him for even a full hour. For all that he knew Grantaire was planning to mug him, it may have been highly unlikely judging by the fact that Grantaire seemed far too lazy and tired to ever actually mug someone, but it was still a possibility. Even looking past the fact that Enjolras looked as though he hadn’t slept in years and was going to collapse any second, he doubted that anybody desperate to mug him would go so far as to walk with him to the Bryant Park train station.

The two walked in silence for a while, Enjolras glancing at the world around him as much as he could without losing track of Grantaire, still shocked by how full of life the city was. The impulsive part of him just wanted to ditch Courfeyrac and watch the people go by all day, wondering what their lives were like, but the logical part reminded him that he had also made the mistake of skipping breakfast that morning. A late breakfast was better than no food at all Enjolras decided, taking the trains back to Columbia with Courf also meant that he had less a chance of getting hopelessly lost. Enjolras decided that one day he would learn to get around the city without the assistance of google maps or some jaded local, it most likely wouldn’t be any day soon, but one day he swore he would know his newfound home like the back of his hand.

“We’re here,” Grantaire declared as he came to a halt, causing Enjolras to snap out of his thoughts, and surely enough they where. “You’re going to Woodside and I’m heading to Flushing so we’ll both be taking the 7, you just get off before me,” Grantaire continued though it seemed more like he was speaking to himself than to anyone else. “Do you have a metrocard?”

Enjolras nodded in response, thankful that he had made the purchase on his first day in town. His parents had offered to get him a car so he wouldn't have to deal with public transport, pointing out that Enjolras’ license would be going to waste if he didn’t invest in a car at some point, but he saw no point in owning a car in a city with so much public transportation. He saw on the first day when taking a cab from the airport how absolutely nightmarish traffic in New York could be. Even when he was back at home Enjolras had hated taking the car, always preferring to walk or take his bike wherever he needed to go, cars may have been been convenient when looked at from a simple travel perspective but he couldn’t overlook the fact that they were actively polluting the air and wasting fossil fuels, even if it lead to his parents calling him a hippie. Not having a car was probably for the best.

Grantaire nodded back at Enjolras, as though to bring him back to reality and make sure that he was registering the situation, before descending the staircase into the subway. Enjolras followed behind as best as he would, which as everything else had seemed simple in theory, but wasn’t nearly as simple in practice. The train station smelt like shit to put it quite literally, it smelt like literal fecal matter and expired beer and pot which Enjolras only recognized due to the one high school party that he had ever been to, and Enjolras was almost positive that he was going to either throw up or pass out because of it. Grantaire who was already waiting at the end of the corridor for Enjolras, a cocky smirk on his face, seemed completely unaffected by the stench. It was in this moment that Enjolras concluded that new yorkers weren’t human.

“You planning to catch up with me or not?” Grantaire half-shouted, seemingly not caring much about the people around him either, not that they were paying any attention to him. People had places to be, jobs and meetings to attend, they felt no need to even bat an eye at Grantaire.

It was amazing.

Once Enjolras got down the stairs he had managed to catch up to Grantaire, he had also miraculously managed to swipe his metrocard and get through the turnstile on the first try, something that Grantaire said even most native new yorkers couldn’t claim. They stood on the platform together, Grantaire rambling about the unspoken rules of the subway to Enjolras who was trying his best to adjust to the odor of the subway. It took a few minutes for the train to arrive but when it did Enjolras could have sworn that it was a sign from the heavens above, the first thing reaching him upon walking inside being the almost complete lack of the scent of fecal matter. Perhaps this was what connected all new yorkers, their deep loathing for the scent of the subway, if so then Enjolras had never felt more connected to New York than he had before.

Grantaire took a seat near the end of the train car, gesturing to the seat next to him for Enjolras to take, which Enjolras politely declined by shaking his head.

“I’m not really one for sitting down, thank you for the offer though,” Enjolras admitted, walking over to to pole near Grantaire in order to stand by him. When the train jerked forward Enjolras nearly lost his balance, just barely able to avoid falling to his demise by grabbing a hold of the cold metal pole, and even though Grantaire remained silent Enjolras was positive that he could have heard him laughing.

“Of course you aren't,” Grantaire commented to which Enjolras could only raise an eyebrow.

“Do you take an issue with that?”

“No, I just think it’s very characteristic of you. Why do you assume that I take issue with everything that you do?”

“You don’t know me, how can you think anything to be characteristic of me?”

Grantaire shrugged, closing his eyes. He seemed so comfortable on the train despite the warnings that he had given Enjolras claiming that the train was unsafe, maybe he had been playing some weird sort of practical joke on Enjolras, but it seemed more likely that Grantaire just didn’t care about the risk just as he seemed to care about nothing else. 

“I know you’re passionate about the social issues and that you’re a rich white boy, what else is there to know?”

“How do you even know that I’m rich?”

“You’re wearing fucking Vineyard Vines in Manhattan, you should practically thank me for not mugging you.”

Enjolras looked down at his shirt and surely enough there was the little Vineyard Vines logo on his shirt. Instantly he knew that it was something that he had just pulled out of his suitcase rather than something that he had consciously chosen to wear, his parents had forced him to get the shirt in hopes that he would wear it rather than clothes that he had gotten from small thrift shops, Enjolras had never worn it until today. He hated clothing that made him feel like he was flashing his financial status in the face of others, he hated how people were treated differently due to their income, he hated everything that the shirt stood for. This hatred didn’t make Grantaire any less right though.

“Fair but I don’t usually wear clothing like this,” Enjolras argued. 

“Oh? Forgive me, are you usually draped in Versace?” Grantaire opened his eyes to look at Enjolras who must have shot back some nasty look as within milliseconds the other had closed his eyes almost defensively.

“I usually get my clothes from thrift stores and yard sales, that or small independent brands.”

“Oh, you’re one of those rich white boys. Shopping at thrift stores because it’s suddenly trendy. How very Brooklyn hipster of you.”

“I shop at thrift stores because I don’t want to support companies that are unwilling to pay employees fair wages. You don’t give those companies money if you buy things second-hand,” Enjolras explained, his voice was firm, leading Grantaire to once again open his eyes.

“There’s more to me than being a rich white boy.”

“Maybe so,” Grantaire replied. Somehow the only thing more infuriating than Grantaire picking needless fights was Grantaire giving in so easily, especially when he seemed like he had so much more to say.

“You’re infuriating, you know?”

“I literally said two words.”

“Yet here I am fuming with rage.”

There was another moment of silence between the two of them. Enjolras knew that he had to pay attention to the little sign above a row of seats that showed all of the upcoming stops, still he couldn’t look away from Grantaire who seemed so at ease despite the hostility that had been in the comments. This stranger that he had bumped into on the sidewalk had quickly become one of the biggest mysteries to Enjolras, and regardless of whether or not he liked it, he would have to leave Grantaire behind in a few minutes. It would be goodbye and Enjolras would eventually forget their strange encounter, even if he felt like this was only the start of something.

He must have been tired out of his mind.

“Do you have any hope for the future?” Enjolras asked, his voice was raw and vulnerable, but he gave Grantaure a look of stone. He didn’t know that he hadn’t wanted for it to be returned until it was.

“No.” And the words seemed true as they slipped from Grantaire’s mouth, it was as though he had given up on hope and belief years ago, and Enjolras could only be angry.

“Then I pity you. The world is going to change, you may never believe that to be the case, but I swear on my damn life that it will,” Enjolras affirmed.

“And I have no doubts that I’ll see you at the head of a revolution that leads us to a new day.”

And Enjolras wanted to say something back, to ask what the hell Grantaire had meant, but as the train came to a halt he realized that this was his stop, he needed to get off. So with much hesitation Enjolras walked out of the train and onto the platform, not offering Grantaire so much as a goodbye as he stepped out. It was a once in a lifetime experience Enjolras realized, the conversation that the two had being almost prophetic, and now it was over leaving Enjolras to return to life as normal. He still had lunch to catch, he still had things to do, and within a few weeks Grantaire would be nothing more than a distant memory.

Enjolras wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted that.

As the train left the station Enjolras decided it was time to as well, walking down the steps of the station, until he was once again on the sidewalk of a completely unfamiliar area. Across the street he could see Courfeyrac on his phone, probably waiting for Enjolras who had no doubt been late, and never before had Enjolras been so relieved to see a face that he recognized. He walked across the street, hands in his pockets, and a smile on his face. For now at least, he wanted to forget Grantaire and their conversation, but already it was proving to be a hard task.

“Hey!” Enjolras greeted, nodding at Courfeyrac who later drew Enjolras into a tight hug as soon as they were within arms reach. Enjolras had never been the most physically affectionate person, or he never initiated it at least, Courfeyrac was a nice contrast.

“It’s about time, you stupid asshole! I’ve been waiting forever. I thought you got mugged or lost, I love you but you really need to learn to respond to your texts.”

That was when Enjolras realized that he hadn’t heard his phone going off at all. This meant one of two things: either his phone had been super fucked up by his crash with Grantaire or he had turned his phone on silent at some point. He hoped with his entire heart that it was the latter.

“You were probably only texting me to like your recent on Instagram Courf,” Enjolras mumbled leading Courfeyrac to pull away and look at him.

“So what if I was? You still haven’t made an Instagram by the way, a real shame considering I could find you a hot political science boyfriend on there,” Courfeyrac winked, to which Enjolras could only groan. He didn’t even have the time to respond before Courfeyrac gave him that look which could only mean that something bad was coming.

“Are you alright? You’re red, like, I’m seriously worried should I call 911 or do you need to punch something or cry red,” Courfeyrac whispered, and as much as Enjolras may have trusted him for only having known him for a few weeks, he decided that was a story for another time.

“I’m fine Courf, for now I just need to get lunch into my system. New York City days are long,” Enjolras answered his grin turning into more of a tired smile, one that Courfeyrac could seemingly empathize with judging by his sigh.

“Agreed, now we eat.”

And with that the two of them walked into the small café, leaving Enjolras to push the thoughts of Grantaire and the 7 train into his subconscious, if only for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things to know
> 
> -Grantaire is Latino in this fic, I didn't quite feel the need to go into it now but that's why he calls Enjolras white boy and isn't hypocritical. Latinx culture will play a role in Grantaire's story and his identity will be brought up later on.
> 
> -R was going to a cool restaurant with Soup Dumplings. Flushing is basically home to Queens' Chinatown.
> 
> _There are a lot of nice pubs/cafes in Woodside and they're great places for brunch
> 
> -Last but not least updates will be either weekly or oncee every two weeks, thanks for reading! Please leave a kudos or a comment!<3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song 2: Wake Me Up Before You Go Go  
> https://youtu.be/pIgZ7gMze7A

By the end of September Enjolras had found himself a solid group of friends. It had all started with Courfeyrac introducing him to Combeferre, a student of neuroscience from NYU. While the two never really discussed how they had met, it was obvious that Courfeyrac trusted Combeferre, and for Enjolras that was enough. From there Enjolras met Joly and Bossuet, later being introduced to their girlfriend Musichetta. Along the way he had also met Feuilly (who Enjolras almost instantly admired) and Bahorel. It was a lot of people to befriend in such a short amount of time, a lot of energy that had to be utilized in an effective way so that Enjolras could still stay on top of his schoolwork, but time didn't seem to impact anything between all of them. Despite only having known each other for a few weeks the group were as thick as thieves, united by some invisible force.

Maybe it was the heartbeat of the city again.

Invisible forces aside, the group was also brought together by politics. Normal small talk turned into winding conversations about how the world could improve, how societies could improve. For such a diverse group they all had fairly similar ideas, perhaps not always agreeing on methods to get things done, but in the end they all wanted the same thing. The world was in a state of change as it had been since its birth, on Earth change was simply unavoidable, it was only logical that society should change along with the planet. These small discussions and impassioned rants had soon became much more serious, giving birth to a group that would almost be historic, the hearts and passion of these college students had given birth to a group that went by Les Amis de l'ABC.

It was early October when the group had their first real meeting. The planning had been somewhat short notice but Musichetta had been able to offer them a quiet space in the back room of the pub where she worked. Most of the first meeting had been basic troubleshooting; what to do in the event that somebody was sick, would there be meetings during the holidays, and where they allowed to order ‘non-alcoholic’ drinks? Feuilly had offered to take notes for the meetings when he wasn’t working, Jehan had offered to be a backup, and Bahorel as a backup to the backup. It had also been decided that during holidays they would take breaks and Enjolras had agreed to non-alcoholic (though he wasn’t sure how reliable this was when Musichetta gave Bossuet and Joly brown tinted cups so that nobody could see the contents) beverages being had during the meeting. The first meeting of les amis had commenced with the group agreeing to meet twice a week and with appetizers to go around the table.

For the most part things had been going well. Everybody was involved and passionate, even Musichetta, who took moments to listen to the conversations at hand whenever the pub wasn’t too busy. At their fourth meeting Courfeyrac had made the suggestion that the group create social media pages, citing that it would be an effective way to gain traction to the cause, by the end of the same meeting they had created an Instagram and a Twitter with a website on it’s way thanks to Combeferre. It had been decided that from there, they would begin to plan rallies and such, going to local protests for now. The group had much that they wanted to fight for, much that they believed in, and though it would take time they would stop at nothing to bring an end to the night and darkness. If the people in power didn't want to listen to the cries of the people, to those that they have hurt and killed, Enjolras was damn willing to force them.

In truth, everything about the group was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

It was November eighth and by now everyone had gotten somewhat used to this routine. Bossuet and Joly where playing dominoes at the corner of the table, Jehan and Combeferre where signing calmly to each other, Bahorel rambled to Feuilly about law school as Feuilly opened his laptop in preparation to transcribe the meeting, Musichetta came in every now and then briefly conversing, and Enjolras sat back watching it all. He had always enjoyed moments like these, moments where everybody seemed comfortable. It always came as somewhat of a shock to people when they learned that Enjolras was capable of being quiet for more than 30 seconds, even more of a shock when they learned that he actually had moments of silence quite often. He admired his friends and what they had to say, their thoughts on things regardless of the topic, every now and then it was nice to just stay in the background and watch them speak. Enjolras certainly had moments where he could seem cold and stoic, he knew this better than possibly anybody else, but he loved his friends and found comfort in their presence, even if he didn’t seem to at times.

The only odd thing about the meeting had been pointed out by Bahorel who, almost worriedly, asked where Courfeyrac was. It wasn't at all uncommon for Courfeyrac to be a bit late, whether it was due to the MTA or a totally real date that he had, but at the last meeting he had been practically bursting with excitement, telling everyone that he had a surprise for them at the next meeting. This enthusiasm that he possessed had been enough to suggest that he would arrive early to the meeting or at the very least that he would be on time, but now the meeting had been delayed by quite a few minutes and Courfeyrac was still nowhere to be found. Enjolras supposed he could always start the meeting regardless of Courfeyrac's presence, the transcription of the meeting was to be uploaded onto the cloud regardless, he would just have to catch up and learn to be early next time if he had anything to say on the subjects that they were speaking about. It would be weird holding a meeting without Courfeyrac, who many considered to be the heart of the group, but it would just have to do.

Five more minutes passed before Enjolras stood up, preparing to declare that the meeting was to start, but before he could utter a single syllable Courfeyrac rushed into the room at the speed of light, nearly killing Joly in the process. When Courfeyrac had finally come to a full stop he put a finger in the air, taking a moment to breathe before saying anything. While this certainly hadn’t been the first time that Courfeyrac had rushed into a meeting, it was the first that he had seemed so utterly exhausted and dazed, taking in deep breaths and not bothering to acknowledge the snickers from his friends. It was an awkward situation no doubt, only more awkward for Enjolras who was standing when this whole ordeal had occurred, and was now quite unsure of what to do. Awkward positions aside, Enjolras just hoped that whatever on Earth caused Courfeyrac to be so frantic was enough to justify the fact that he had nearly killed everyone in the musain and himself.

“The surprise is outside,” Courfeyrac eventually spoke in between deep breaths. 

The looks from around the room must have signaled that everyone wanted more information about the new mystery member because after steadying his breath Courfeyrac prepared himself to speak again. 

“His name is Marius, I thought he could use some friends,” he eventually finished.

“That’s the surprise?” Jehan started, his tone relatively loud, “I was hoping that you were bringing ball pythons or fireworks or something that’s normally labeled a surprise.”

“Jehan, my dear friend, if somebody has tried to surprise you with a Ball Python, I fear for your life,” Courfeyrac sighed taking his regular seat at the table.

“I’ll have you know that Ball Pythons can make great pets, you just need to make sure you have a good dealer,” Jehan responded, causing the whole table to fall into a deadly silence, everyone staring at them with both confusion and deep worry.

“What? I’m not wrong,”

“I find it troubling that any of you are still shocked by any of what Jehan says,” Combeferre commented, “Their snake dealer is probably one of the least concerning things about them.”

It was the table’s turn to give Combeferre a look, though it was hardly as effective. If there was one thing that Combeferre had mastered throughout the course of his life, it had to be seeming generally unbothered by most things. This wasn’t to say that Combeferre was an emotionless robot, he wasn’t, he was just much more stoic than the rest of his friends. Enjolras supposed that was partly the result of Combeferre having learned the art of not strangling everyone that treated him like a child due to the fact that he was hard of hearing. It was part of why he had joined the amis, wanting to advocate for others in the Deaf community, wanting to show that Deaf Culture was beautiful, and wanting to show that being deaf was by no means a death sentence. Combeferre was also an activist for equal education for all, believing the knowledge would be what put an end to hatred. Of all the people that Enjolras had met, Combeferre was by far the most intelligent, and though he didn’t share quite as much passion for revolution as Enjolras, he still believed in the freedom and education of the people, as well as their equality. All of these traits combined made it easy to assume that Combeferre was incapable of humor but as Enjolras had learned the opposite was true, in fact, his deadpan was probably what made him so funny.

“I hate to be a bother here but isn’t our new member waiting out for us in the cold?” Feuilly spoke up, his tone something between a stifled laugh and a serious comment.

“Oh, shit!” Courfeyrac wheezed as he scrambled out of his chair, this time almost bringing Combeferre, who looked rightfully terrified, down with him.

The whole table went silent for a moment before Bahorel began to laugh, he was then joined by Feuilly who sat right next to him, and before Enjolras knew it the whole table was laughing. It made his chest feel warm, seeing his friends this happy, even the darkest times called for a good laugh occasionally, as a matter of fact these times may have called for them more. There was a time and place for laughter of course, once meetings began Enjolras was fairly strict about this fact, but outside of the meetings he was glad to see his friends getting along. Even if there were moments when Enjolras didn't get them, when he had no interest in joining in on their conversations and such, Enjolras was able to find joy in their joy. One of the many pros of being an observer was learning to appreciate some of the smaller things in life, one of those being the happiness of others, regardless of why they were happy. Empathy was a strange thing that the world really needed more of.

Moments later, Marius was lead in by Courfeyrac, and for the first time Enjolras could clearly see what Courf had meant when he said that Marius was looked like he needed friends. The man had to be around their age, but the redness of his face gave the impression of a middle schooler that had just been given the sex talk for the first time. This combined with the apparently small demeanor and jacket that seemed two sizes too big made him seem like the biggest disaster there, which was pretty hard to beat considering Bossuet was quite literally a walking omen. As Marius got closer, he only managed to seem increasingly uncomfortable, attempting to greet everyone but averting his eyes when he got to Enjolras. This left a creeping suspicion that Courfeyrac, being the asshole that he was, had said something to psych Marius out.

“So, Marius, what brings you to this meeting?” Enjolras asked, attempting to make Marius feel more welcome than he seemed at the moment, though that would be a feat in itself.

“Courfeyrac, obviously.”

It was clear that Marius was trying to crack a joke to diffuse the situation, but the delivery made it sound much more like Courfeyrac had genuinely kidnapped the poor boy. Marius must have been somewhat aware of this fact, for seconds after speaking he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and coughed into his arm. Enjolras didn’t know how it was possible, but the boy’s face turned even more red than it was already, causing him to appear like he was seconds away from spontaneously combusting.

“God, that was so rude. I'm sorry,” Marius chuckled, wiping his hands on his jacket, “I mean uh… Courfeyrac he just- he suggested that I come with him, so uh… so here I am I suppose.. This is so awkward I'm so so sorry.”

“Well, we're glad to have you here,” Enjolras affirmed, though his voice was soft. This was just like trying your best to not scare a small dog away, he had this under control. “I suppose you don't know much about what we do. For now just listen to the conversation and if you want to join in you're more than free to. We don't really have rules, just try to make sure that you don't talk over anyone, you project, and try to not cover your mouth when you speak. With that settled, I say we should call the meeting to a start.”

* * *

The meeting had a fairly calm start, at least it was considered calm for the amis. There were still passionate discussions, pages upon pages of research on multiple topics, as well as social media analytics. Despite how overwhelming this may have seemed upon a first glance, this was nothing compared to nights that were actually intense. In the span of a few weeks the meetings had become deeply personal, people sharing their own experiences and stories, it wasn’t uncommon for there to be tears or shouting on nights that where more intense. Constantly having to fight for change, to fight for decent fucking treatment and a better world, it all took its toll on people. Enjolras always tried to make sure that nobody was frowned upon for expressing emotion at the meetings, he tried to make sure that everyone knew it was okay to cry and yell and get angry. The amis may have been activists, but they were friends first and foremost.

Enjolras would bend over backwards to make sure that all of his friends were okay.

Luckily, the night didn’t seem like one that would end in tears. Though there were conversations about morality and the state of the government as always, there seemed to be a certain warmth to the back room that felt welcoming, to the point where even Marius seemed much more comfortable. Speeches weren’t shouted, there were no arguments nor intense debates, everyone coexisted in a peaceful manner that only seemed possible in New York City. The only thing that could really be heard from the back room that night was a discussion between Combeferre and Enjolras about the current state of foreign affairs, corruption in the white house, and how Trump’s administration was a fucking nightmare to anyone that didn’t fit a certain mold. Conversations like these were common, it was impossible not to get angry when a world leader shamelessly insulted and attacked any group of people that he disliked, frustrations had to be vented sometimes.

“It's just absolutely mind-boggling that he claims to be helping America. It's ridiculous, really. He calls Black Lives Matter a terrorist organization then he calls a group of literal neo-nazis very fine people, he holds a gay pride flag onstage and claims to be an ally but chooses Pence to be his Vice President. He's repulsive, the current state of affairs is repulsive, and we need to do something that will tell those in power we will not obey,” Enjolras rambled. It wasn't quite a speech, but he was still standing, his hands on the table and his voice naturally projecting. You learned a trick or two from being on the debate team all throughout middle school.

“Even beyond that, he claims to be making America great again when it was never great to begin with. This country was built on the back of injustice, it still functions on injustice regardless of how subtle it may seem. America refuses to look to other countries for example, claiming to always be the best, while there are so many countries that do things better than us. It's hubris,” Feuilly added, only looking up from his computer for a split second before continuing to type away. “Oh, by the way, I can't make Monday. Work as usual.”

“Feuilly, you already know that I admire you as a person. That being said, it’s absolutely fine that you're missing Monday, Jehan will just be in charge of note-taking the-”

“Um, excuse me,” Marius interrupted, speaking with a new conviction in his voice.

As Enjolras turned to face Marius he could see that Marius looked more shock by the conviction in his voice than anyone else there, which was quite an impressive feat because Enjolras didn't even have to look to know that Bossuet's jaw had probably dropped and Feuilly and Bahorel were looking at each other in an attempt to not laugh. As much as Enjolras loved his friends, it had to be said that at times they acted like 5 year olds, really immature 5 year olds at that. This part of them usually didn't show when they were discussing serious matters, but there were moments when nobody could help but to laugh, Marius just happened to be providing these instances at the moment.

“Marius! Do you have something you'd like to say?” Enjolras asked, getting ready to sit down. He was interested in hearing what Marius was thinking, it was always nice to get to hear a new perspective, and if not nice then at the very least educational, though Enjolras hardly doubted that would be the case. 

“Well, this isn't to say that I uh exactly support our current president, I don't but uh…” 

And this couldn't be heading anywhere good.

“When you think about it in terms of leadership, for better or for worse he has a way of commanding attention. He also has firm ideas, they may contrast with yours, but they’re present. He’s a firm leader and that’s what a country needs. He’s also smart if you really look at his actions,” Marius finished.

There were normal silences and then there were deadly silence, this was the latter without a doubt. The whole table was no staring at Marius, whether they were genuinely shocked that Marius had said that or they were waiting for a fight to break out. There was no more stifled laughter from Bahorel and Feuilly, no Joly tapping his foot, just silence and Enjolras’ fist clenched at his side. The more he thought about it the more likely it seemed that they where waiting for Enjolras to explode, either punching Marius in the face or literally bursting at the seams, neither of which happened however. He was used to this, he was used to situations like this, for now he just needed to speak his points clearly and with conviction. Besides, as much as Enjolras hated to admit it, Marius did have some semblance of a point.

“I agree with you on some fronts. He has strong ideas as despicable as they may be, perhaps he's even intelligent in the way that he leads the public to underestimate his intelligence. The danger of this administration however, is that power remains unchecked. In no case should we have a leader that refuses to condemn nazis, in no case should we have a leader that has been recorded bragging about sexual assault. In a country where everyone was supposedly created equal we should not have a leader that actively makes misogynistic, racist, and xenophobic comments,” Enjolras challenged, walking away from the table and towards Marius. “Leaders should be powerful, perhaps, but it is when the leader makes decisions that actively harms citizens that said leader becomes harmful. A strong leader is a leader determined to make change for the better, a leader who will constantly fight for the rights of the people, a leader who doesn't fear the people. Being a strong leader isn't just saying that you'll bomb countries, a strong leader educates and advocates, a strong leader is tries to get things done through diplomacy before warfare. Trump is by no means a strong leader, he's a man with unchecked power, and this Oligarchy masqueraded as a Democracy allowed him to attain said power. So, while you do bring up some good points Marius, I'm inclined to disagree with you about him not being that bad,” Enjolras voice was firm, leaving no room for hesitation or shakiness. He had his beliefs and he would argue for them until he died. “If you want to debate this I'm more than willing, you're competent enough.”

Enjolras rant led to another coughing fit on Marius’ behalf, this time leading the boy to pull out an asthma pump from his back pocket. In the dead silence of the room it was the only sound capable of being heard, promptly followed by Marius scrambling to put the pump back in his pocket. It was almost as though he felt if he were to hold it for a even a minute longer, it would ensure an early and painful death. It was clear that Marius was back to avoiding eye contact with Enjolras, suddenly seeming much more interested in the floorboards than any normal human should be, but Enjolras couldn’t really blame Marius. Enjolras had his terrifying moments, even now as he stared at Marius with genuine concern, such concern likely ended up coming off as a glare or something of the sort. The first time that Courfeyrac had met Enjolras he had described Enjolras as charming but capable of being terrible, he supposed moments like this proved it.

“I’m good actually! Great as a matter of fact! I just-” Marius cut himself off with a nervous chuckle that came out as more of a wheeze than anything else. “Bathroom, I need to um… I need to go to the bathroom. Yeah, I have to go.” 

Marius stumbled out in a manner that managed to make the silence less heavy, it was much more awkward now as Enjolras was left standing, but it wasn’t nearly as heavy. If Enjolras weren't so utterly drained and frustrated he probably would have laughed at the situation, despite popular belief he could find the humor in situations at times, but having to argue that Trump was dangerous and hardly a leader was just… tiring. The government had been messy for years, Enjolras knew this fact, but the past few years had only been gleaming proof of how much utter shit was still alive in the country. Enjolras would always fight for the people, it was only the right thing to do, but this didn't mean that it didn't get repetitive and feel ineffective at times. Enjolras was a fighter, he would be a fighter as long as the world needed one, and even when things seemed hopeless he knew that he could find light in the people.

The people would always rise, the just needed a reason.

“Holy fucking shit,” A voice laughed, a voice that was too familiar, yet one that Enjolras was sure belonged to none of his friends, a voice that caused Enjolras. To turn his head at a speed that couldn't have possibly healthy.

“You,” Enjolras sighed.

Surely enough it was Grantaire, the man that had called him a “fucking moron” what felt like ages ago, still sporting the same shitty smirk and messy black curls. His voice shouldn't have been one that was so memorable to Enjolras, considering that they had only met once before, but if Enjolras was being completely honest he couldn't stop playing their conversation on the train in his head since that day. Something about Grantaire had been so utterly confusing, something that both infuriated Enjolras and made him want to pay attention. This native New Yorker that Enjolras had almost punched in the face was at his meeting, sitting besides Joly and Bossuet like he owned the damn place, and Enjolras honest-to-god believed himself to be hallucinating.

“Me,” Grantaire responded, pointing at his chest. He was either pretending to be shocked or genuinely shocked, either way Enjolras just wanted that shit-eating grin off of his face.

“How did you get here?” Enjolras asked, his tone almost snappy. Instead of evoking any negative reaction from Grantaire however, instead all that he did was raise an eyebrow and smile even wider.

“Well, my parents liked to say that a stork brought me down, my science teachers, on the other hand, always had a much more creative expla-”

“That’s not at all what I meant and you know it. How did you get back here? It’s a private room.”

Grantaire seemed to think for a moment, humming to himself, before seemingly solving this internal question. 

“I walked.”

In these moments Enjolras felt like he was going to scream, already drained from a day of classes in addition to the Marius debacle, the last thing that he needed was a cynic who interrupted their meetings and held no respect for what they did. Fortunately, Enjolras didn’t have the opportunity to blow up, as he was interrupted by laughter from both Joly and Bossuet within seconds of Grantaire’s comment.

“Wait a second. Hold up. You two know each other?” Bossuet asked in between laughs, grabbing onto Grantaire’s arm so as not to fall over, knowing Bossuet however Grantaire probably wouldn’t be of much help if fate wanted him to fall over.

“Believe it or not, we do. Remember I told you about that dumbass rich boy that was walking in the opposite direction of Bryant park?” Grantaire spoke, smiling gently at his friends, which was odd considering Enjolras never thought he would be using the world gentle relating to anything that grantaire did. 

“Oh my god, how didn’t we realize! It all makes sense now!” Joly exclaimed, rapidly looking between Enjolras and Grantaire.

Out of the corner of his eye Enjolras could see Bahorel and Feuilly snickering, Combeferre and Courfeyrac looking generally confused, and Jehan being as Jehan as ever. This was a nightmare scenario, it really was, but Enjolras wasn't about to explain the Bryant park situation to anybody that didn't need to know. If they were so desperate Enjolras just supposed they could figure out from either Bossuet or Joly, considering they apparently knew about this whole mess.

“Look, you shouldn't be here so unless you want me to call the waitress over-”

“You do that white boy. Like Chetta's going to kick me out, she loves me too much to even consider it, you utter fool,” Grantaire started, his facial expression returning to his unamused yet snarky state. “Also, she's half the reason I'm here. She covered my shift Saturday, I owed her a favor, and she wanted Arepas so…”

“Is there anybody in this city that you don't know?” For some reason it wasn't surprising that Enjolras knew Joly and Bossuet and Musichetta and possibly every other person at the damn-

“Oh. Hi Grantaire,” Marius greeted, out of practically nowhere. Enjolras had no clue when he had gotten back from the bathroom, but then again he hadn't seen Grantaire entering either.

“Pontmercy,” Grantaire responded, nodding in the general direction of the other. Was this how New Yorkers showed respect or something?

“Him too?” At this point Enjolras was just exasperated, sadly enough Grantaire seemed to find some humor in this.

“Not nearly as well as Joly or Bossuet, but yes, Pontmercy too.”

“You're infuriating, you know that?’

“I said like literally two words,”

“Yet here I am boiling with rage!” 

It was probably time to call it quits, Enjolras was starting to develop a migraine and they were no longer on topic. Everyone just needed to leave, Enjolras included. Besides, if he really wanted to achieve something he could probably get more work done in the peace of his dorm room than he could arguing with Grantaire. He just had to call it quits.

’'Okay, I think we're done for tonight. I'm tired. I'll see you guys on Tuesday,” Enjolras sighed, sitting back down in his seat and closing his eyes. It was funny how even with his eyes closed and the people around him uncomfortably moving, he could still feel Grantaire's smirk from across the table.

“Done so soon?” 

“We meet twice a week, I'm sure we'll be fine.”

“Ooh, did you just tell me your schedule? Does this make me an official member now? Do you guys have a secret group chat where I can find all of your embarrassing stories?” Grantaire joked and Enjolras would be lying if he said he hadn't chuckled a small amount.

“We do have a groupchat with all of my embarrassing stories, my baby pictures as well. Sadly, you”ll never live to be a part of it. We have a strict no asshole policy.”

“Well now you're just making it a challenge. Also can't be that strict of a policy if you're in the chat.” Grantaire countered. 

“As amusing as I find this,” Courfeyrac commented, causing Enjolras to snap back to reality, “You and Jehan still have to get back to Columbia and it’s a long commute.”

The reminder made Enjolras’ head hurt but before he could even sigh, he was interrupted yet again. 

“Oh god, don’t tell me you’re planning to get to Columbia University at this time of night with public transport. Do you hate yourself?” Grantaire scoffed. It was hard to tell if he was trying to be an asshole or not.

“Well do you have any better ideas?” Enjolras muttered, opening his eyes to instantly regret it. There was that damn smirk again.

“Take a cab. You clearly have Columbia money white boy, a lyft won't hurt your wallet. It'll save you time, you won't have to deal with packed trains, and you're saving yourself from the shithole that is the MTA. You'll thank me later.” 

As much as Enjolras hated to admit it, Grantaire's idea was pretty solid. This was to be expected of course, Grantaire seemed to know the city like the back of his hand, and something about it made Enjolras want to punch him square in the nose. Hidden anger aside, after saying goodbyes to their friends and Grantaire, Enjolras and Jehan got in a lyft together and headed back to Columbia. It wasn't until they had gotten in the lyft that Enjolras had realized how desperately he had needed to get out of that restaurant, his headache feeling significantly less intense than it had even minutes ago. Still, he was utterly exhausted, and he had a feeling he wouldn't be feeling any better by the morning. Maybe he would just take the day off, have a day to himself for the first time since he had moved.

“So, do you want to tell me what all that was about?” Jehan asked, their voice always carried a certain warmth to it that made it easier for Enjolras to speak his mind.

“Like he said, we met once before. I got lost, he called me a moron, he took the train with me. It's nothing huge, he's just an arrogant asshole.” Enjolras answered, leaning his head on Jehan's shoulder.

“Okay.” And there seemed to be something that went unsaid on Jehan's side but Enjolras was far too tired to even give it a second of thought, if Jehan had something that they wanted to say they could say it.

* * *

When they got back to the dorms Enjolras changed into the most comfortable pair of pajamas that he owned and collapsed onto his bed. He definitely wasn't going to class tomorrow, he was tired beyond belief, and everyone deserved a break for themselves every now and then. Before he fell to sleep he sent Joly a text asking for Grantaire's number, at the very least he could send Grantaire a text saying thank you, surprisingly Joly gave it to him without even the slightest bit of questioning. A few minutes after receiving Grantaire's number Enjolras had constructed a text that he was fairly proud of and sent it, hoping that Joly wasn't pranking him by giving him the wrong number or something.

[Enjolras | 12:11 a.m.] Hello, it's Enjolras. I just wanted to thank you for the advice tonight, I definitely enjoyed the cab ride much more than I would have enjoyed taking the subway. P.S. You're permanently barred from meetings.

And after sending that text Enjolras fell asleep, his exhaustion so heavy that not even dreams could haunt him.

* * *

[Grantaire | 3:37 a.m.] of course it's you. glad i could help and i hope to god that ur asleep. see you tuesday golden boy -r

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some upcoming things
> 
> -R being in a chapter for more than two seconds
> 
> -Talk of John Oliver and SNL
> 
> -Nicknames and Exes
> 
> -And in probably the last chapter an explanation of what the heck these songs mean


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song 3:You're The One That I Want by John Travolta and Olivia Newton John
> 
> Warning: Mild Dorian Gray spoilers (can you spoil a book from the 1800s?)

The weekend had come much sooner than Enjolras could keep track of and by the time he had processed Friday it was Sunday.

It wasn't the worst thing in the world, Enjolras was fine with his classes, he just found himself wishing that his weekends were longer at times. At the beginning of the year Enjolras had spent much of his weekends in his dorm room listening to TED radio hour and Civics 101. This routine had changed about 3 weeks in when his friends decided it was unacceptable and began to drag him places, now his weekends were mostly spent listening to Ted radio hour and Civics 101 while he was at whatever new brunch place his friends had found. Occasionally he would tune in to conversations between them, turning off his phone as he just watched them silently. Much of their conversations was small-talk, and though Enjolras loved them deeply he just couldn't ever fully get into it, not enough to really partake that was. His silence and podcast habits never seemed to become an issue, his friends shooting him an occasional smile whenever he did this, as though to say that even though they didn't get him they cared about him.

He was lucky to have friends like them.

This weekend's antics had led back to Queens, in search of yet another pub. By now it was becoming fairly clear that Enjolras was the only one of his friends (even including Marius) without a fake ID,though he had been offered one by Bahorel on several occasions. He didn't consider not having a fake ID a loss by any means, the one thing that it really got you was easier access to alcohol, which Enjolras was never interested in. Despite his friends jokes, it wasn't one of those holier than thou complexes. Enjolras had actually consumed alcohol a few times before (well, champagne at New Years by accident and a beer once), he just hated the taste of it. That combined with the effects that it had on his head made it something that he decided was better to avoid, though if his friends really started to beg and the proper situation arose he was likely to just give in.

Despite the fact that he avoided drinking, Enjolras really had no problem with going to pubs frequently. More often than not his friends’ happiness usually made up for the fact that he was kind of an odd-one-out either way. These outings could have also provided Enjolras with time to get valuable work done while still leaving his dorm room, that was if Courfeyrac hadn't declared a work ban on Sundays that all of Enjolras’ friends seemed pretty damned determined to stick to. He understood that they meant well, he really did, but there were times where he would rather do some work than just sitting around listening to podcasts and feeling like the world was coming to a halt. Ironically enough, arguing for the ability to do some work on Sundays had led to Feuilly calling him a workaholic, which couldn't have meant anything good. The only real reason Enjolras was even cooperating though, was because Combeferre brought up a valid point--burnout-- and Enjolras would prefer taking a day off every now and then over not being able to work for days in a row because he felt stressed. 

Even if he had never felt stressed before, college was a new beast.

As Enjolras walked out of the subway station, he found himself looking around at the town. It was without a doubt quieter than Manhattan, but it was also undoubtedly chaotic in it's own ways. One pair of kids screamed at their mother as they attempted to drag her across the street to the Gamestop, a few couples walked hand-in-hand while looking down at their phones, and still some were bumping into each other on the way into the Starbucks. In all truth, Enjolras wasn't surprised, the town seemed like the type to get crazily busy on a Sunday afternoon. By the time he had fully come to his senses he realized that he had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to just stare, something that he was advised against unless he wanted a fist in his face, so he pushed the New York chaos to the back of his mind and continued walking to where the map on his phone said he was supposed to be going.

Musichetta had promised to help Enjolras out with learning to navigate the subway and decided that it would be easier if they met up at her workplace. At first Enjolras had been hesitant, simply because he knew how terrible he was with anything pertaining to navigation, but after a while he had given in. The thing that you learned about Musichetta very quickly was how absolutely terrifying she could be, both Bossuet and Joly said it was the thing that they loved the most about her even if it scared them shitless half the time, the same seemed to apply to the rest of the amis. Even though Enjolras wasn't as close to her as he was to the rest of the amis-- mostly due to her work schedule which happened to coincide with the amis’ meetings-- he had still grown quite fond of her over the past few weeks. Musichetta took no shit and did what she wanted, her personality was admirable, that combined with her glare that could kill naturally made her likeable to Enjolras.

The walk from the subway station to the pub was hardly 5 minutes, in fact Enjolras didn't even fully comprehend that he was there until he had stepped inside and instantly felt the heat from the restaurant flood into his body. New York was certainly much colder than he had been used to, though most of the time he hardly noticed it due to the obscene amount of layers that he wore in the fall and winter. Being a student was tough, it was already hard enough to stay on top of schoolwork and an activism group, Enjolras wasn't really in the position to take a week off because he had the flu. Did his precautions make him look ridiculous and leave him victim to taunting at times? Without a doubt, but it was worth it. Enjolras maintained an intense schedule whether or not he was sick, at least if he looked ridiculous but stayed healthy he was less likely to quite literally pass out.

“Enjolras!” A voice that Enjolras instantly recognized as Musichetta's shouted and almost immediately a small smile appeared on his face.

“Hey, Musichetta,” Enjolras greeted, walking towards her with his hands in his pockets. At times it could seem hard to believe that this, the guy that spoke quietly and had his hands in his pockets, was the same person who had made kids cry during debates over the death penalty in class. It wasn't that Enjolras was unassuming, far from it according to Courfeyrac, but he certainly had moments where he seemed softer. “Finishing up a shift?”

 

“Calling it quits early today. Joly and Bossuet wanted to make it a date day,” Musichetta answered, a tired smile falling across her face that instantly caused a pang of guilt to fill Enjolras’ chest. “Anyways, it's nice seeing you around! This isn't exactly your neck of the woods. Got business to attend to?” 

The thing about situations like this was that there was no winning, either he lied to Chetta or made her feel guilty, neither of which he really wanted to do right now. Enjolras tried his best to be an honest person, but every now and then situations like these arose, situations where a smaller fib (although not the greatest thing in the world) would just be better for everyone. Even if Musichetta where to find out one day, the pain of that revelation wouldn't be great. It was just a stupid subway thing. Of course, however, before Enjolras got to respond, the door opened with a thud that could only be described as violent in nature. 

“Chetta! My love!” A voice said, Grantaire's voice said as he walked over, and already Enjolras could feel himself getting bent out of shape.

When Grantaire made his way over to Musichetta he kissed her on the cheek and hugged her in a manner that could only be described as the opposite of what Enjolras would expect from somebody like Grantaire. Of course, he hardly seemed to notice Enjolras’ existence until Enjolras cleared his throat in a manner that was so pretentious it almost made him cringe and instantly caused Grantaire to turn around.

“You,” Grantaire snorted, giving Enjolras a small challenging smirk as he stepped away from Musichetta. Instantly all traces of sweetness and not-complete-douchebagery disappeared.

“Me,” Enjolras responded, clearly sounding far too annoyed as it only made Grantaire's smirk grow wider.

“So if you two could quit the sexual tension until I leave that would be highly appreciated, you are here to cover my shift are all R.”

R; it was such a peculiar nickname and for some reason Enjolras found it to fit so perfectly despite hearing it for the first time now.

“On it chief. Love you too, by the way,” Grantaire remarked, causing Musichetta to sigh.

“And I wish I didn't love you. Now get to work, please. I don't want to be late. You know how Joly gets.”

“On it, also tell Bossuet to kiss my ass and that he still owes me 50 dollars,” Grantaire stated, smiling gently. 

“Yeah? This shift is your 50, now we're even. Enjoy, love,” Chetta laughed finally.

Before Enjolras could even beg Musichetta to not leave him with the madman that was Grantaire she had already gone, leaving Enjolras gaping at nothing. This was only made worse by clear snickering that could be heard coming from behind the bar, those snickers belonging to no other than Grantaire, of course. He had no idea how anyone could make his blood boil so much, but something about him made Enjolras’ jaw clench up everytime he so much as took a breath. Due to this fact, Enjolras taking a seat at the bar seemed like the least likely thing for him to do, yet he did it anyways.

“You still never said hi to me,” Enjolras spoke, looking at Grantaire who even now seemed too distracted to greet Enjolras, instead closely inspecting the bottles behind him

“They're watering down drinks again. Lazy fucks,” Grantaire half-mumbled, turning back around to Enjolras with a raised brow. 

“And you can tell that just by looking at them?” Enjolras’ words were plagued with a dubious tone, one that while genuinely curious, could make Enjolras seem like an ass.

“Two bottles of the same vodka out. Not common protocol, and in my experience with this place it means that they're more likely than not watering shit down,” Grantaire paused, pursing his lips and looking back at the bottles for a second before ultimately deciding to keep his focus on Enjolras. “It's not a hard trick to pull on customers, even neat it's easy to get fooled if you aren't an ardent drinker, doesn't make it any less illegal. They'd be fucked if a customer found out and snitched.”

All that Enjolras could do was stare in this moment, in some odd mix of awe and utter confusion. It wasn't quite a rant that Grantaire was off on, Enjolras was sure that his rants where much different than this despite having never seen one,it was closer to Grantaire speaking aloud his train of thought, which didn't seem wild, but you'd assume that somebody talking about illegal activities would have the sense to keep it quieter. Then again, maybe in some odd stranger way Grantaire trusted Enjolras not to snitch-- one of those my friends’ friend is my friend type situations-- that or he was just stupid which Enjolras really didn't believe to be the case. 

“Regardless, what do you want to drink? I don't suggest the vodka given our current situation, but anything else should be game,” Grantaire spoke loudly, causing Enjolras to snap out of his thoughts. 

“I'll probably just have a seltzer,”

“You come to a bar and ask for seltzer? Wow, you really are the poster child for purity, huh?”

“Don't call me that,”

“Tip me well enough and I'll call you princess if you so desire. You're the one who goes on obsessive rambles about the corrupt capitalist state, I'm just trying to live, oh pure one!”

If Enjolras wasn't previously annoyed he was now. Despite only saying a few sords, even fewer on the subject of politics, Gantaire seemed to be mocking everything that Enjolras stood for. The icing on top of the cake was his smirk which meant that he probably knew that he was being a dick in some way but he didn't care, if anything he probably found the whole situation funny. Of course, this could only mean one thing.

“Do you have coffee?” Enjolras asked, tryong to bring some type of calm back to the coversation.

“You clearly don't have much experience with bars, do you?”

“That took you long enough to figure out. Not as intuitive with people as you are with drinks, huh?”

This prompted an eye roll from Grantaire, though the look on his face made it seem as though he where much more focused on containing a laugh than genuinely annoyed. It was one of those things that could have been dismissed or taken as a win. Enjolras, being himself, decided that the latter was probably the better option in this scenario. 

“I'll put an order in for you. One question though, if you have no experience with bars then why exactly are you here?”

And of course that question had to pop up. Grantaire didn't really seem to have a filter, which didn't seem too surprising. Even thinking back to how they had met, to Grantaire saying that he had no doubt he would see Enjolras leading a revolution despite barely knowing him. It was something that Enjolras had kept thinking about, mainly because the whole encounter had been far too intimate for an encounter between strangers and Enjolras hadn't felt uncomfortable in it at all, but something about that sentence had struck him. Needless to say, it was clear that Grantaire didn't really believe in boundaries.

“Musichetta said she would help me out with the subway today and-”

“She has a date with Joly and Bossuet.” Grantaire finished, getting a slight nod from Enjolras.

“I didn't want to bring it up and make her feel guilty or anything so I just let it be. I decided to stay because there's no way I took the subway for nothing.”

“Yeah, the MTA is a bitch. It's not getting better. Cuomo's a bitch, DeBlasio is a bitch, all of them are bitches. Not much we can do,” Grantaire started as he poured a seltzer, the sliding the glass over to Enjolras in a manner that could only be described as anxiety inducing. “It's not really like Chetta to forget stuff like this, not that she ditched you on purpose or anything, it just strikes me as-”

“Odd?”

“Exactly,” Grantaire agreed, the traces of a smile on his face. “Look at that, you've spent five minutes in the same room as me and you don't want to kill me! That's improvement.”

“Sure, I mean except I've strangled you in my head at least 5 times now,” Enjolras shot back, just as quickly as the response had come to mind.

“Slow down there, Dorian. You don't get all murdery until chapter 13, this is like chapter two at best.”

The Oscar Wilde reference was something that came quite out of the blue, mostly due to the implications of the comment. Then again, it could have just as likely been Grantaire speaking his incoherent thoughts aloud again. The possibility didn't completely eliminate the strange aspect of it, that was still very present as a matter of fact, it just made it seem somewhat more reasonable. Besides, Grantaire hardly seemed to care much about basing his annoying nicknames on actual personality traits and appearances so much as he just named the first thing that came to mind.

“Earth to Romeo,” Grantaire snorted, waving his hand in front of Enjolras’ face, only to have it swatted away by Enjolras seconds later, leaving Grantaire with a feigned look of hurt on his face. “You know if you ever need like a tour guide or something you can ask me, right? I know this city better than anyone else. Places to eat, places to read, places to sit and watch the world go by. Besides, I enjoy our encounters, however strange they may be.”

All that Enjolras could do was roll his eyes in response to that. If there were a medal for being ridiculous he had no doubt in his mind that Grantaire would have won it about 70 times by now. The offer in itself was kind, probably more kind than Enjolras was deserving from somebody that he had practically booted out of the last meeting, but at least the joking tone of Grantaire's words made Enjolras feel less like a dickwad.

“Better than anyone else? That's not at all narcissistic,” Enjolras commented after taking a long sip from his seltzer, only then realizing that he was dehydrated.

“You have absolutely no right to comment because you got lost looking for Bryant Park.”

“Fuck you.”

“That's what your mother said last night,” Grantaire replied, looking over at the door where new customers seemed to be approaching. “Parting is such sweet sorrow, but I have paying customers to entertain. See you Tuesday, if not just ask Joly for my schedule and stop by when I have a shift somewhere, I'll be waiting to pick up this conversation where I mock you.” 

And with a swift movement Grantaire was gone to the other side of the bar, already wrapped up in another conversation, and while Enjolras would have still had to interact with him for the check he knew that Grantaire's sentence said enough. The seltzer was free, or on Grantaire actually, which was something that Enjolras wasn't quite decipher. However the time came when he finished the seltzer, long before he could even begin to decipher the gesture, and with that he took his leave.

Back to the heartbeat of the city.

Back to his dorm.

Back on the E and then to the 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Not uodating a fic for like 2 months then probably updating like two times in a single weekend? More likely than it seems.
> 
> More stuff soon, I promise.


End file.
